All I've Never Wanted(2)

Avoiding them was actually quite easy, considering the Scions had their own classroom, where they came and went as they pleased; their own private nook in the dining area, and a mass of students surrounding them whenever they went. It was a wonder they learned anything at school.

Then again, they probably didn’t. Why would they need to, when they were already set to take over their family’s empires?

I took a deep breath as Valesca's perfectly manicured campus came into view. I could do this. Just one more year, and then I would be on my way to college, where I can pretend my experience here was just been a bad dream.

I was annoyed but unsurprised to see the crowd gathered on the flight of stairs that led to the entrance. Everyone was laughing and hugging after an oh-so-taxing summer apart at their parents' villas in the south of France (note the sarcasm) but they were all casting surreptitious glances at the four empty, prime parking spots in the parking lot.

Locate directly in front of the school and slightly separated from the rest of the lot, they were reserved for the Scions. On normal days, the Scions usually carpooled two and two, but on the first day, they each liked to make a grand entrance in their own overly priced sportsmobiles. During the other school days, of course, two of those spots would remain empty, since no one would ever dare park in one of them.

Already in a bad mood, I elbowed my way through the crowd, ignoring my peers' curious glances. Before I could get inside, however, I heard someone scream my name.

"Maya! Mayaaaaaaa! MAYA LINDBERG!"

The last utterance was yelled directly into my ear, and I flinched a bit, waiting for the ringing in my ears to stop before I turned to face the petite, pretty redhead.

"Hi, Venice," I said with a genuine smile.

"Hiiii!" She enveloped me in a crushing hug that had me staggering back a few steps. For someone so small and thin, she sure weighed a lot. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too," I laughed, listening patiently as Venice rambled on about her amazing summer eco-tour of Costa Rica.

Venice France (yes, that really is her name. Her parents, apparently blessed with a sick sense of humor, also named her younger sister Kyoto and her older brother Frankfurt; understandably, he goes by Frankie) is one of the few genuinely nice, down-to-earth people in this school. In fact, she might be the only one.

We became close last year when we both had the unfortunate luck of being stuck in fifth-period AP Calculus with Mr. White, who is as albino-complexioned as his name suggests and who is way too pen-happy with his detention pad. Venice is also the only person who is privy to my seething hatred of the Scions and everything they stand for: elitism, superficiality, tyranny.

Suddenly, the entire school, it seemed, erupted into deafening cheers and hoots.

Oh shit.

I was about to slip inside the school when Venice grabbed my arm. "Where are you going?" she hissed.

"The bathroom," I blurted. "I really gotta go."

"No you don't. You just don't want to see them," she observed shrewdly.

"Well, if you know, why'd you ask?"

"Because I'm not going to let you slink away from them anymore!"

"I don't slink away," I protested. "I strategically miss them."

She ignored me and tugged on my arm, forcing me to walk down the steps with her until we were blocked by the crush of students. "I don't care what you call it, it's not healthy."

I eyed her suspiciously. "I bet you only want someone to gush to about how amazingly perfect they are."

She shrugged, not even bothering to deny it. "They are," she insisted somewhat defensively. "Physically speaking, anyway."

"There's more to life than looks," I countered, wincing when I realized how annoyingly preachy I sounded. Gotta work on that.


"Not if you're in high school. Now, shhh."

I shut up, not because she said so, but because the crowd had fallen silent, and I didn't want to speak and bring attention to myself.

Venice and I were standing on the very top of the stairs, and I heard them before I saw them—the sound of screeching tires as four very expensive, very flashy cars turned sharply at the same time into their respective parking spaces.

I swear, if this was a movie, there'd be some dramatic soundtrack playing right now. Everyone except me waited with bated breath for the Scions to emerge, and when they finally did, the ensuing swoons and screams were a million times louder than before. As if the scene couldn't get anymore sickening, the clouds decided to part at that moment, and a golden beam of sunlight highlighted the quartet like they're really the gods everyone thinks they are.

Parker Remington was the first to get out. Slamming the door of his red Lamborghini shut, I felt like the renowned playboy should be moving in slow motion as he raked a hand through his wavy, golden brown hair. The son of the most powerful figure in the international finance and banking world leaned against the side of his car, his eyes shielded by a pair of aviators, and flashed a disarming smile into the crowd, causing more than a few girls to nearly faint.

Gag me.

The next to come out was Carlo Tevasco. The towering, dark Colombian, though equally gorgeous, was nowhere near as overtly smooth and charming at his friend. In fact, he looked a little annoyed at all the ballyhoo that greeted him. I shouldn't be surprised; a black belt in five different types of martial arts and the son of a multibillionaire real estate developer with rumored ties to the mafia, Carlo seemed to be the quietest and least attention-seeking Scion. Even his car, a simple but sturdy black Range Rover, reflected his personality.